Last night I began to delete my old posts, and tonight I finished the job. For someone with a faulty memory and a reliance on the written word to recall events in her life, this is quite the action.

I deleted three-fourths of what was written here. Not that I think this is of monumental importance or even is noteworthy but still I document it.

When I was new here, I posted regularly with mundane entries about my first year of college and the obvious fact (that somehow took me years to notice) that hey, I'm gay. I commented consistently on other member's posts and was nearly a one-woman welcoming wagon at one point, active within this lovely community. However, as time went on, I started writing and commenting less, and when I did write the topics changed as well. Gone are the trivialities. Those were replaced with intermittent posts whenever inspiration struck. Now...gone, too, is the spark. Yet even with my decreased participation, I never stopped reading what others had to say. I've checked Oasis faithfully twice a day for years now; its routine.

In the four and a half years I've been a member, I've read fantastic words, been awed and inspired by the thoughts, feelings, and experiences of others. The support and positive environment here is refreshing. Members come and go as is the way of things; there have been many people whom I've never met yet through the force of words and raw emotion have not forgotten.

I think I'm one of the last remaining individuals of my cohort who visits frequently. People come and go, find what they need and move on, a little better for having spent time here. I stumbled on Oasis during the beginning of the coming out process where I was waking up to myself, to what was always there. Now, I'm in an entirely different place, in nearly all areas of my life.

So why haven't I left?